Her accent sounded familiar to Tora. If he was right, luck was indeed with him. “I think you need to carry all those things inside,” he said, “and you don’t want to leave them in the street for thieves. Allow me to help. My name’s Tora.”

She still hesitated, but relaxed a little after giving him another careful look. Tora’s handsome face and neat clothing clearly impressed her. Here was a courteous, friendly young man who was certainly strong enough to carry all the abandoned cabbages and turnips, bags of rice and beans, and kegs of sake and oil. Well,” she said dubiously.

Tora put on one of his dazzling smiles.

She blushed, smoothed her hair back, and straightened the cloth apron covering her blue gown. She was middle-aged, near the same age as the Sugawara’s cook, but unlike that shrew she had a pleasant face with apple cheeks and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.

Tora said, “Look, dear lady, I have some time on my hands, and you cannot be expected to do such rough work. That’s for men. I’ll gladly give you a hand.” He reached for a large basket of vegetables with one arm and scooped up a heavy bundle with the other. “Lead the way, my dear.”

“Well, if you’d just take the big stuff inside the gate, that would be a big help. The master doesn’t allow strangers inside and makes us keep the gates closed. I’d hate to leave all this outside. There are a lot of thieves in this city.”

“It wouldn’t last long enough for you to take one basket to the kitchen and come for the next.” Tora deposited his vegetables inside the gate in what appeared to be a service yard and turned back for another load.

With both of them moving parcels and bags inside, it was done quickly. Tora had identified the kitchen by the fact that smoke came from the one-story building. “Well,” he said, glancing at it, “I think that’s still a long way for you to carry all these heavy things.”

“It’s all right,” she said, holding the gate open for him to leave. “I can manage now.”

He hung his head. “I see you still don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. My guess is you’re not from here yourself.”

She blushed and hesitated. “It’s true. I’m from Sagami.”

“What if I told you a bit about myself?”

“Well …”

“You see, I work for a man called Juntaro. He’s a dealer in grass mats and cushions in the fourth ward. This morning, he sent me to drum up some business from your master. He heard his lordship had come to town and he told me to ask the steward if they needed any mats. I tried at the main gate, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

She nodded. “It’s not a good time to sell anything.”

“You sound a bit like my people back home. I was born and raised in Shimosa province. My people were farmers.”

Her round face lit up. “You’re from Shimosa? So am I, from near the coast. Near Chiba. My people were fishermen.”

“You don’t say! Have you been to Asakusa?”

“Oh, yes. When I was young girl. We went to the beautiful temple there.”

They regarded each other happily for a moment, then Tora asked, “So, what do you say? Since our people were practically neighbors, maybe cousins? Back home a dainty female didn’t have to lug around heavy things.”

She giggled at that “dainty female,” then cast a look around. There was no one in sight. “All right, then. But we must hurry so nobody sees us, or I’ll be in trouble for letting you in. You’re very nice to offer, Tora.” She slammed the gate shut.

Tora chuckled. “Least I can do. You remind me of home. I miss it a lot. It was beautiful there. All green woods and fields and the blue sea.”

“Yes, not like this big dirty city.” She glared at the gate as if it kept out all the filth of the great city. “Let’s get everything inside the kitchen over there. I’m Hanishi, the cook. We’re short-staffed, because the master rushed up here and left all the servants behind. He only brought soldiers.”

“A bit strange, that.” Tora loaded up again and started toward the kitchen.

“You’d think he was about to start a war,” she grumbled, following him. “And me having to feed the big louts all by myself.” They reached the kitchen, and she pointed. “Put those vegetables over there.”

Tora sniffed the air. A large iron pot simmered over the open fire, filling the room with the aroma of seafood. He gave her another smile. “I bet you’re a great cook, Hanishi. That smell reminds me of my mother. I miss her cooking something terrible.” He tried to look hungry as he said this.

She laughed. “When we’re done, I’ll let you sample my fish stew.”

“Fish stew?” Tora, smacked his lips and dashed back outside.

When all the supplies had been brought in and put away, Hanishi found a bowl and ladled stew into it. She gestured at the earthenware ovens that heated two rice cookers. “Sorry, the rice isn’t done. Ran out of wood after making this fire.”

Tora tasted the stew. It was good. He did not have to pretend pleasure, and started gobbling it. “Who needs rice with something like this,” he said with a full mouth. “Oh, that brings back memories. You’re a wonderful cook, Hanishi.”

She preened herself a little. “Well, I like to feed hungry men like you. Do you have a wife, Tora?”

She gave him a very considering look, and Tora thought of lying, but in the end he said, “Oh, yes. A wife and a son. I’m a family man.” He gave her another grin, hoping he had not discouraged her altogether. “But my wife’s been raised here. She doesn’t know how to make fish stew like this.”

“Oh,” she said, a little deflated. “I suppose I could tell her easily enough. Another bowl?”

He made her a bow. “You’re a generous woman in addition to being the best cook in town. But let me go out first and bring you some wood to fire up the rice cookers. Where do you keep it?”

She positively glowed with good will again, showing him the huge wood pile behind the kitchen. Tora worked hard, and when he had carried in enough kindling and logs, he helped her lay the fire. Then he sat down with a sigh of relief; he had done more work for Masaie’s household this morning than he normally did at home.

“So,” he asked her when she brought him his second bowl of stew, “do you like it here? Do you have a good master and mistress? They say this Lord Maseie is a very wealthy man.”

“He is that. He’s got three wives, but they’re meek as mice, no trouble at all. Now his daughter, she was something! The spirit of that girl.” She heaved a sigh. “Poor thing. I loved her, no matter what they say now.”

This was going better than Tora had expected. He raised his brows. “Oh? There’s a story there. Why do you call her a poor thing?” He got up to help her carry a pail of water to the rice pot.

“Thanks. Lady Masako’s dead. She was her father’s favorite and entered the palace last year. Her father really doted on her. It’s funny the way the meanest men turn soft as goose down when it comes to little girls. She was always beautiful. A little princess even then.” Cook stopped what she was doing to look dreamily into the distance. “She’d come running to me for sweet dumplings and oranges all the time. Oh, she was something. And beautiful! She grew tall, but slender and quick. The master taught her how to ride and use bow and arrow, and he took her hunting. She was much better at those things than the young lord. He’d come home in a mighty temper, that boy.” She laughed at the memory.

Tora smiled. “Can’t blame him. But I wish I’d had a sister.”

“What’s your family like?”

Tora preferred no distractions from the flood of reminiscences and said, “There’s no one now. They all died.” It was true enough.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Tora. Well, the lady Masako died this past winter. She killed herself, except we’re not to talk about it. They say she brought shame on the family.” She turned away, overcome with emotion. “It’s hard to stop loving her.” Her voice broke, and she sniffled. “I have no children. I was very fond of her.”